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Chapter Text

Two modes of play

Unless you Run

There were two modes of play, regular and cinematic. In the mundane mode, embraced by the masses for its simplicity, you simply put a controller in the computer via the proper port. Play was simplistic, just follow the book's instructions and "The World" became a sprawling dungeon crawl. With nearly unlimited combinations of key words to thread together the possibilities were endless. Controls were… generic, limited by the medium they were offered in. Mathematical in form and formula, the route went thus: Dual stick one equals "walk", Dual stick two equals Camera/Perspective, and so on and so forth.

Even with the goggles set over the eyes Dual stick two would twirl perspective about for you, no motions of the neck required. Though, despite knowing consciously of the system, there were many who turned their heads about anyways even as their thumbs pushed the controller and twirled the camera about.

Instinct was hard to shake. Consider it's track record, it's with us since the start. Sight –the root of "The World's" stimuli- struck the heart of mankind. With calculated precision the corporate had struck impulse, the brother to instinct, and it drove reactions and sales up. So heads turned, hands shook, blows –when struck and received- coaxed miniscule winces and shakes.

The World hit the world running, and never slowed.

Two million copies sold, two million people picked up controller and counsel. Hooked software into computers, updated soundcards, and when all was in place plugged in their goggles and set down on seats of varying comfort. Two million manuals were consumed, skimmed, considered, contemplated, than forgotten.

As for the masses, few read the final lines of the manual, a warning to those who dabbled in keyboard forum of play. Typed in garish reds, cast in miniscule print, on the back of the "Notes" section the warning hung, unnoticed by all. "The World" knew it's limits, and in a way encouraged them so it's fullest potential would never be realized.

Controllers were sold with the sets, encouraged with planted, premeditated, enthusiastic voices scattered amongst the boards. The masses bought the message, so the messengers were recalled.

But, at times the best-laid plans fall awry. As always, it comes from an unexpected quarter, the unanticipated land where reality meets theory and triumphs around the edges. Poverty and obsession dovetail into a bizarre, bitter, acidic, elixir that allows its imbiber to surpasses the preset. The results, however, are never guaranteed.

But then, satisfaction is never guaranteed. That's a quote from the CC corp.'s contract, the last line on the first page of the "Rules and Agreement" to be exact.

Shaking hands scrabble through the refuse bin behind an electric goods store. Carefully withdrawn are the shattered computers those "out of date models" that never sold at discount price. Gloved hands paw through the shattered plastic shells, picking through the fragments, the husks.

He smiles, weary, but triumphant, it's a secret smile that he never lets anyone see. Ever

From bits and pieces, constructed without guilds and manuals, temporized and adlibbed, it's built. A shrine to his want, it runs sickly green as electricity fills pilfered bulbs and bursts forth with a light akin to carrion at it's late stages, but not the latest. The goggles are taken, bent and broken, snatched from the brow of the obsessed and tossed out a nearby window in a show of intervention born drama. That last is a godsend, sent straight from above. He swipes them, that precious, final, piece, before the trash man can. Above, an argument rumbles, thunderous, from the window that his find fell. Chasing him, for he runs, and its participants are oblivious that he exists but still the words roar.

And he runs, after all, you can't be chased unless you run.

WARNING: There are two forums of play, "Controller" mode (this forum is standard to traditional gaming systems) and "Cinematic". Default is set for "Controller" but those without the CC Corp patented controller will be swapped over to "Cinematic" automatically. Those prone to seizures, with a history of epilepsy, should not play "Cinematic" mode and it is highly recommended you should see a doctor if disorientation occurs while playing in "Cinematic" mode or at any time while playing "The World".

He handles his latest find as if it's sacred. Hiding it under his shirt as he walked in, the coast is clear and despite that assurance he keeps it secret thought it's warped edges bite hard and deep. Only when his door is closed and locked does he pull his latest –most precious- find out. It's worn, much loved and looking it. Despite the electric tape wound about the cord and bent goggles he smiles and hugs it tight.

All's in place, at long last.

Booting up the computer, never minding it's garish greens and scratched sides, he waits, made patient by impatience being worn out. He pulls a disk from his backpack, having ferried it here, there, everywhere in fear of it being lost. Its illegal contents were hard to get, so he strives hard to hide what no one must find. Masked by the CD's generic brand name, obsfusified by the fact it bares the mark of a band in his own hand sketched in sharpie black, he hides crime with a lesser sin of "Song burning"… For safety's sake, he carries it about in a CD player, singing snippets of songs in another language when anyone draws too close.

That generally encourages them to pull back, and so his secrets remain secret.

With a click and whirl, the plastic tongue extends, accepts the disk as offering and withdraws. Electricity and light chase over a cyclic ream of zeros and ones, humming all the while, as if the motherboard and it's various attachments are sampling something sweet.

To the familiar sound he hums along, smiling his secret smile all the while. Hands tapping imaginary rhythms to the high pitched whine on the desk, he watches the screen shift and shape, its pixels melt and morph into facsimiles of liquid. As crystallization into familiar, forbidden, logos commences he almost laughs.

Almost…

The door slamming jars him from his euphoria. That mundane sound stills the tickling in the back of his throat and steals his smile. He wakes from the dream, regrets that he hadn't enough time to make it form into real.

"Sweetie?"

…so close…

He sighed, bitterly, even as he turned to address the door.

"In my room Mother, I'll be out in a bit."

A few thumps herald the fact that she's carrying something, setting them down noisily. It's a not so subtle warning that he'd better go down and help. She probably had bought groceries, or some other type of shopping bag that demanded bulk since there were so many thumps. Mother was always shopping and father was always working to cover Mother's expenses. Those were the two norms in his life.

"Well hurry up with the "whatever" you're doing in their mister and get your butt downstairs, this stuff's heavy!"

Wasn't it always?

Still, he didn't have time, time to loiter or banter, the taboo needed obscuring. Papers scattered over cords, monitor unplugged and stuck in one drawer, that hidden by a swarm unfolded, unbound socks. As for the tower, that was the easiest to hide, he just stuck it with in the box by his bed, covering its existence with the horde of other gaming systems.

Satisfied that his tracks were covered he unlocked the door and padded down the hall. As he had expected Mother and her omnipresent bags were waiting after one turn in obvious impatience. Well… rather mother was impatient, the bags after all were inanimate, sagging, skins of plastic. They couldn't exude anything as vehement or violate as impatience, only sag limply amongst themselves and fly away at a good breeze.

Forcing a smile, a tight paralyzing of his lips and the smallest baring of his teeth, he approaches. Deflection, he decides, is the best route.

"Hello, Mother, how was your day?"

She leans forward, though does nothing to draw near. Eyes squinted tight, she scrutinizes, crowding close without taking a single step. Though a few feet separate them he considers her detachedly. She's a monolith atop a pile of bags, spearing him with a long look that covers that space with presence and smothers. Through it all the he smiles his forced smile and tries to look innocent.

"Don't "Hello; Mother" me, young man! Your eyes are red striped again! Have you been playing since I left?"

"No Mother."

"Don't lie to me, young man."

To that he's silent, he was out and the breeze had been blowing something fierce when his last piece –the last, wonderful, piece- had fallen from heaven. She wouldn't understand that, so he simply quirks his lips a little wider and sighs.

"It's not like you can hide anything from me, young man, you're as transparent as glass."

"I'm… sorry."

"Don't be." Stepping from her horde of just had to buys all wrapped in transparent, white tinged, shrouds. She waddled over a forest of random leaning handles, passed silk plastic shores, to cross a blue tile sea and tower over him. "Just put all this away, and while you're doing that remember, I know when you're lying. Dishonesty only doubles your work you know."

Lesson done, she passed him by, passed from kitchen tile to living room rug only to find the tile once more. A slam and click from the back of the house, where the bathroom resided, told him where her journey had likely ended. Heaving a sigh, content she wouldn't hear him over the sound of the running water and pile more work on him –for his "lip"- he looked at the pile of bags and it's lumpy contents.

She'd gone shopping, again. Food shopping, this time, "to get necessities" she'd call it.

Considering the fridge was already full –nearly to bursting last he checked- he hardly considered it necessary. But she did, so he bent and picked up the first of many, making the first of many trips form the pile to the fridge.

Chapter Text

Two modes of play

Naming

He knows every squiggle of each sigil as if it's the arches and angles that compose his own name. And that symbol dances before his eyes, remembered and cherished though never perused. So, to divert his mind from it's self inflicted torments, he dwells on something different yet always the same. On names, his thoughts chase one another round and round, as he contemplates, tastes, and discards nominatives by the score. Sprawled on the carpet, one leg bent and idly absently kicking, he holds one bright pencil on hand, nipping on the pink plastic top atop his pencil. The taste of eraser doesn't bother him, it smells faintly of dusty rice, and it's texture is grainy, it's taste... Well nasty, when he accidentally bites too hard he quickly spits out the fruit of his labor, trying not to gag.

Still his labor passes the time of day, with pen and paper he works, and when asked he states he's "studying".

Maternal duties done, Mother asks nothing more, Father's out of town and thus out of the picture. And so he waits and labors with nominatives, patient and sure that what he wants he'll get.

And it comes. It's coming drifts in with bits and pieces, warnings and signs, and even though his eyes are locked on the paper he notes them from the corner of his eyes. The more frequent glances at the clock, the quick dart into the bedroom to change into different clothes. Grimacing at the gaudy hues seen from the edge of his sight he focus' the whole of his vision on the page before him. White marked with blue, blue underscores to the loops and whirls of grey... Bored, he yawns into an upraised hand, changing the foot that drums into the carpet, exchanging left for right for a while.

Mother was going out. Father was gone, it was only a matter of time after all. Mother would go to her bingo game, perhaps drift to the casino, and be gone for a day or two. All the signs were there, from the poorly concealed restlessness, to the change in garb. When she announces "Well Sandra just called, and there going to be picking me up in a bit for a ladies night out..." and confirms in her rambling way what he know, he nods. Only that. Never smile and nod, just nod, because otherwise you're "up to something". And while he was contemplating something, it was hardly illegal or malicious.

After all, he's just dwelling on a name, thinking up a name for...

For things best left unconsidered.

For another... self... an identity that he could never speak of. It's a secret that can't be spoken, and the ineffable nature of it all makes him shiver, just a bit.

Muttering and rambling, about cards and purses. Meandering about, picking up this and that "necessity", Mother passes and doesn't see. She never notes the small shudder on his part. Her eyes are fixed on the clock, her mind focused till cluttered with other things. Arcane adult matters like bingo cards, and chips, tumble from her lips. Allusions to adult games involving money and other matters he could care less about slip from her lips like arcane mumbo jumbo. And though she's here, she's gone. Clearly, irrevocably, gone... Gone and wandering about gaudy brightly lit halls and screaming red carpets, her favored terrain. Each cranny is surely stuffed with neon tubes so that what few shadows are permitted are unnaturally hued. What quiet for thought would always be broken, if not by banter than by bells. Bells that were rung so loud, so sure, that all sweetness had been leached from the sound. She's ascend a red carpeted world, with all it's glittering glories to the sound of electronic screams.

"Well I'm off, dinners in the freezer, just warm it up and I'll be back before you know it!-"

Translation: I'll be back late tonight, very late.

"- Sandra's husbands going to drop us off and pick us up when we call-"

Continuing translation: See you tomorrow.

"-so we might just be better making a night of it..."

Final Message: Day after tomorrow more likely than not, don't loose sleep waiting up for me.

"Dear..." Tentative, so delicate was her tone that he looked up. Half expecting something new, for this was new, her... octave exuded touchiness. Intrigued, he looked up at the paper he'd been staring at blankly for so long. Too long, he notes, to have inspired this. "You are going to be alright being alone for a bit, aren't you?"

Disappointment, a new beginning to a tired old track. He does his best not to sigh, and stutters instead. "Oh... of course!"

"Well, don't spent all day playing, you'll ruin your eyes you know."

He almost said something, something smart, something sharp. Instead, he smiled, opportunity is here after all. No point in losing it to a bit of bitterness. So he lets his lips quirk into a smile she thinks of as "fond" and he knows of as "practiced". For he has practiced it, in the mirror from time to time. Because it isn't a real smile, his real smiles are secret, not to be shared.

And sometimes, just sometimes, they worry about that. Mother and Father and those occasional others he shares his life with. So he practiced his artificial smiles for the world and trotted them out form time to time. Just to keep his hand in it, as it were, and to keep them from worrying.

"I won't." He promises, still holding his smile in place.

And because he's smiling, and his head's still (no smile and nod there, no cause for alarm) she smiles back. Confident he's telling the truth. Satisfied that her world is in place, she nods, then turns to look at the clock once more, focusing on other things. Looking at her back, he considers, then decides to encroach on her thoughts. Just around he edges, mind, not enough to jar her from her premeditated plans and plots about better things.

"Hey, Mom."

She half turns, somewhat curious.

"What's an elk look like?"

"A droopy faced reindeer with a million long antlers." She answers absently, explanation done she turns back to the clock.

From outside a horn blares, and she twitches, losing anxiety and distraction all at that one sound. Smiling wide, she tells him "to have fun" and then is at the door than through the door before it even has a chance to bang closed. She almost goes though the door before it has a chance to even open, she's that thrilled to be gone. Sighing he lingers over his paper for a little, then since he can't think of anything else that a hundred other people must be playing as, he decides the name "Elk" will have to do.

Then, on whim, he decides to try it.

"Hello, Elk."

The wave master he doodled under the list of names looked up at him, pencil etched eyes passive, indifferent, unblinking face. From the light of his wand, the boyish caster looks young, almost a child save for one lacking detail. Those eyes, flat and expressionless, colorless save for the thin blue lines from the paper itself. Without a fleck of color to them they lose some of their vitality.

That "breath of life" that the artists crave.

Tentively, unaware of how his voice is shaking, he tries the name again.

"Hello, Elk."

It sounds so much better the second time, he decides. And decision made he scrawls those words under the picture and circles it once.

Chapter Text

Two modes of play

Chapter 3

Fade Away

Falling felt like flying, without horizon or sky or eath to flal into. Up was down, and down, was up. Only the fact that his hair whipped up into the space above him, and what tears he released as a result of his flight went up. (A flash of gold, numbers and symbols etched in electric yellow, reflection compressed so tight it seemed precious) told him he was falling.

That, and the fact that he was screaming.

You never screamed while flying, only when you fell. He didn't know why that was. It's just how it went.

It was a breathless span of his descent that he'd learned how much had changed. Between gasps the flare and flap of fabric caught his ears. Gripping his terror, holding it fast, he nearly let loose a sob for his efforts, almost but not quite exchanging fear for hysterics. Fwip, fwap went the edges of his clothes, as they caught the wind of his descent and flared out, trying to fly away

Sudden image: Nude Wavemaster materializing at Mac Anu, youtube2 video, one million views.

Insane as it was, he couldn't shake that image. Of all the stupid things to think... Still, to that idea he acted. Crossing his arms over his chest as if bitterly cold, then crossing his lefts likewise. It was when he crossed his arms that he learned about the staff. Sleek and black with a moon like crescent on it's top. The staff's top was like the innards of some massive shell, ripped out violently the jags of it's tearing left untouched by polish and the like. At the center, hanging between the emptiness between edges hung an orb of blue, a dot of sea, or water, or perhaps a shard of sky...

Someway, somehow, it had been thrust into his hands during his fall. Between learning there were spaces between 0 and 1. While learning that between those digits lay a bright yellow expanses of school bus hue that had no seats, nor no bottoms, and that the span between those familiar numbers was unspeakably vast. Whilst learning these things a Wavemaster's baton had ben jammed into his fisted fingers. Pallid digits all but choked the haft. While he was growing accustomed to the nature of his descent, enough to think again, his wide eyes went up to consider his prize. That stability was fickle, a moment, then and gone as something looming and down drew his gaze.

Grey, lumpish, gritty it spread below him.

His last thought before impact was that looks hard, his thought right after impact was to affirm that it was.

XXX

He'd been robbed, less than five minutes into "the World" and he'd been... been mugged. Dazed and sprawled, he'd materialized a few inches above the cobble stones of Mac Anu, City of Water. His earlier pose, the I don't want to lose my clothes posture hadn't helped his equilibrium any. He'd hit the earth with a soft 'oof' and crumpled.

With an almost melodic tink a link his staff had skittered out of his grip, skipped across the cobble stones, and slid to a stop a few feet away. View skewed (his head was after all on it's side, his cheek slowly but surely melding with the uneven stones) he never saw who it was. Just their boots, and legs. Red tribal stripes on sun browned tan, fur booties so white the fur cuffs glittered, as if ice was caught along the edge of each hair. They came, went, and his staff went with them.

"Cuh ak!"

Half of his face was mashed against the stones, he couldn't speak, not without taking a huge bite out of his own cheek.

Still. He tried.

"Cun ack!"

Without even a hint of slowing to show they'd heard or cared, the red stripped legs and their attendant white booties went on their merry way.

"Ehh! Ehhph... ehh!"

He tried to get up, lift his head, even to point and alert what authorities there were he needed help. At this junction anything would have been preferred to just lying there. All he managed was a twitch or two despite his best efforts.

"Eehphh!"

XX

His next contact with his fellow PC's was less than reassuring. Half resigned to spending his first session in the World on his side, Elk idly had been watching shoes roam by. Fur and leather, some carrying silly points, one with curled toes, one with a bell anointing said curl like an after thought. Boots came, boots went, and none drifted close enough for him to talk to. Tucked in little out of the way alley, with only his hair and head poking around the corner to announce the to observant "Here I am" and to the opportunistic "I'm helpless here!" he groaned. Logging out looked better and better, especially after the last batch of people he'd met.

Spitting static instead of words they approached. Hulking, huge, with big slabs of silver strapped to their sides. They'd spotted him and circled mouthing inanities and saying insanities like "Bzz bzt?" back and forth. After what felt like forever one word got through the static of a malfunctioning translator.

"Trade?"

"-Ahe?" He'd mouthed to the stones.

Thoughtfully one of them, a black skilled man baring violet marking and clothes made of smoke and gray scales, reached out and flipped him over. Now he saw posts of wood and an endless looking span of water. Blue striped with gold, as the sun hit the lack luster wave tips just right...

"Bz bzt? zzt Trade?" Asked the thoughtful one.

"What you got?" Though in an awkward pose Elk decided to approach this gamely after all, it was just a game.

"Bz bs Aromatic grass? bzz?"

"Sure, what's Aromatic grass d-"

Clearly not the player, but some automated voice, chimed cheerily.

"Swordmaster Brutis requests shoes."

"Wha-What!"

"By accepting (1) Aromatic grass, you also consent to the loss of (1) shoes. Thank you for using CC corp.'s automated trade system. Have a nice day!"

"Hey! No! I didn't agree to..."

The clomp of boots retreating, and the more telling, the tickling of damp breeze against his feet confirmed to Elk what he'd realized two seconds' too late.

He'd been had.

Then, just to rub it in, he received a message from CC corp.'s automated voice. Singing from the safety of nowhere it chimed out three words that hardly needed translation.

":)" AKA the evil smiley...

Something's were just universal.

XXX

"Ohh a connoisseur!"

Virtual reality goggles off, ear buds in, he'd set the tolls of the "World" aside and was on their main site trying to figure out how to log out. So far there were two schools of thought to his technical query when he posted it on the boards. One: read the manual, and two: unplug the system. He'd been about to follow through with the second idea when the background sounds (clomp clomp of feet. and the Omnipresent swish kish of waves lapping at the docks) was drowned out by that odd cry.

Without thinking he snapped the goggles over his eyes, and the inanities like screens, and schools of thought, and systems, fled. And insanities, like remembering how to move but being unable too, came back. In force. His vision was filled with violet fur, and a small white muzzle, and at the tip top of his range of sight an allusion of vast, triangular growths that might have been elongated cat's ears.

"An awake connoisseur." The voice that slipped past the snout was husky, yet feminine. "Goood Morning."

"H..." Fangs? Had he just seen fangs in the purple cat-thing-woman's mouth? "H...hi?"

"Hello there." Smiling, flashing what was obviously a mouthful of fangs, the creature wsa so close that he could have counted each tooth and noted it's type. "Never met anyone who could sleep wit their eyes open before."

"Y..yeah,... um..." Not a whiff of fish to the creature's breath, his surprise over that was enough to steal what little remained of his wits. "Hi?"

"I think you already said that." The creature pointed out gently, but those gold eyes glimmered like a laugh made ocular.

"Ummm..."

"And that." The cat chimed in cheerfully.

"Uh..."

"Ooh, a new word!"

He groaned, great another jerk out to tease the N00b. Though he didn't say it, he thought it, and his moan had hints of his thinking laced throughout. Eyes scrunched, he hunched back into himself. Giving up entirely.

"Please... don't..." He whimpered, voice about to break, the tickle of whiskers brushed his cheeks, and that soft sensation made his eyes crack open. If possible, the cat person had crept closer.

"Don't what?" the violet cat teased, whiskers curling along with the lips as the feline smiled.

"I.. I just want to log out... please!"

Surprise chased the smile off feline features. Golden eyes went wide (but not glowing, not like hte suns golden, perhaps there was a bit of brass amongst the more precious metal) wide and oddly enough, flat, like coins instead of eyes. Save that coins didn't have black slits that shivered so. That face, eyes closed, black nose flaring, pulled back, back then up an away as it first sat then stood. Brown boots with claws poking out, was all he saw. From above and away came a oddly, coldly...

"Then log out."

"I can't." He hiccupped. "Something's wrong, I can't even move!"

With a 'whissh' a purple tail, sleek, thin, slipped into his range of vision. another, near silent 'shwishh' and it swept out.

"How long?"

"Two hours."

"Really"

"I...I don't know..."

A pause the tail scythed in and out of his vision as it's owner thought over something.

"First time?"

"Un huh."

A laugh then, throaty and thick, just like the voice.

"Whatever have you been doing for two hours?"

"Watching shoes."

The cat person sniggered. "Shoes?" She managed to choke out.

"Until I got rolled over." Elk explained, smiling just a little. "By the people who took my shoes."

"Shoes?" the cat thing repeated itself, tone even more tight as her control wavered.

"Yeah, shoes." Elk sighed, "I was pretty bored." he admitted with a sigh.

"You must have been."

Despite all that happened when the cat-person laughed he found himself laughing along. that was a first, something new, and as strange as some of the shoes he'd seen strutting by. He savored that, even as he marveled at the fact of his own laughter. Like fools they sniggered and snickered, howled and hooted, at a joke that had left him the ultimate punch line.

"Whoo." A creak told him the cat-person had sat, that and the tail that underscored his limited field of vision like a violet highlight. "That was fun." the feline approached. "It's nice to have someone to laugh with."

Then, because it was something he wanted, a world without "What ifs" and "buts" and all those awkward things that made talking hard, he dared.

"It is."

"Not was?" the tail arched a bit even as the cat's person's tone followed suit.

"It's not like I'm going anywhere." Elk confided.

"Name's Mia. Just in case you were ever going to get around to asking." The feline told him, with a hint of laughter still tucked in the voice.

And because it felt right even though everything possible had gone wrong, he said. "I'm Elk, what's your name?"

A throaty chuckle served as Mia's answer, that and a wry. "I'm Mia, thanks for asking."

They both laughed like loons at that. And the first and second encounters he'd had in the World. Well, they just faded away.

Chapter Text

Two modes of play

Chapter 4

Learning to walk all over again

With effort she got him to sit, limp as a rag, he couldn't help. Save to screech once when he felt himself toppling back and knew that if he went all the way back he'd go ober. Giolden colored etes wide, fur flargin, Mia lunged and snatched the pale blue front of his wabve master's robes, sparing him a virtual bath. After that near disaster she'd slung him over one shoulder and took them both to the back of the building that served as the end of the port side ally. Once plopped in place and bonelessly slumped, the cat-player folded herself so she say before him on bent kneses. Feline eyes glistening and so eirily alive, she considered him even as her tail framed her head in a question mark and coman, and other arches and squiggled tha defied language's attempt to name them.

"You are quite the puzzle Elk."

"I… cant' get up. I'm standing here but there… AM I moving at and not seeing it?" He begged as he'd begged twenty times before.

And as before when he'd stood, sat, shifted, squirmed, jumped, slumped, turned, shook, squinted, leaned (both back and forward), twiste,d shrugged, held his breadh, sigchedm, scrunched his face, scratched his head, rolled his neck, wiggled his toes, and finally took the blasted head set off than put it back on he got the same answer.

"Nope."

"Now?"

Not a twitch." Mia confirmed,

"Stupid cinima mode." Elk flared, worn and weary enough to lose his temper at long last.

During his last, desperate effort Elk had left the computer long enough to find his purloined manual. A quick skim later and he thought he'd found the answer to "what" the problem was. Alas was no solution save "buy a controller" and that purchase was beyond his meager budget.

Having seen temper tantrums before Mia teased her whiskers, twiddling the white thread like extensions with a claw.

"I think we're going about this wrong."

To that Elk drummed up a glare, all unaware of how the wetness about his eyes transferred over from the real to the World and took all the bite out of his belligerence.

"Sit up." Mia suggested. "Let's try something small like sitting up."

"Hunh?" Elk stared blankly at the feline, confusion fell to anger at frustration's prompt. "Well how?' He demanded.

"I don't know, you tell me."

Grumbling and grousing, he dwelled on the cat person's challenge even as his fingers twitched listlessly on the keyboard.

"How do you stand up?" Elk demanded.

"I just do. But we're not talking about standing, or me even. We're talking about you sitting straight and tall." Whiskers twitching as furry lips quirked to show a bit of fang, Mia amended her statement with the precarious precision of a born prankster. "Well, as tall as you can be."

"Thanks awfully." Elk grated.

"No charge." Came the breezy reply.

XX

It came of accident, by hap chance. After struggling and straining for hours with menus and goggles he'd bashed his fist into the computer, pounding at it with frustration. In response to his spat his view tilted, spun, and when his span of disorientation passed he found himself sprawled on his side, limps askew.

"Oh, do it again!" Clapping her claws, golden eyes alight with delight; the feline all but pranced in place with glee.

Though prone and helpless, face once more mashed into the cobbles, Elk groaned.

"Don't you have something else to do? Like level, or sleep, or something?"

To that she laughed, and never answered, never left. And despite his protests he was grateful. Though he'd grumbled and groused as she teased and bantered there was a symmetry to it all. A… an almost familiarity that made him feel right at home despite how awful it all was. He tried, and failed, so he tried some more. Once, then twice, then when counting became pointless he passd that "beyond counting" stage without ever noticing it.

And through it all, eyes wide and intrigued, Mia watched, golden orbs with their touch of brass ever a mystery.

Chapter Text

Two modes of play

Chapter 5

The World: Marrionette, in which the strings are cut,

The Real: Equations/Carrying on

It wall was a matter of logic, of knowing what had been done to initiate the motion. Where, normally, it was instinct, knowing what muscle did what, when and where, such busy details were regulated to the subconcious. Cerabelal grunt work. Stripped of that, stripped of the sub concious as a median, and he was left to recreate motion (the byproduct of instinct) through calculation and thought.

It wasn't an easy task, unnatural besides, but thogh he craved the easy road it was closed by finance. So he temporized. He placed each fact as evidence, each factor as a circumstance, and strove to rebuild what had failed to see how it failed. From then. after learning from what went wrong he was (un theroy) to have learned enough to get it right. So he pieced each bit of information like it was a factor in a mathmatical equation, using words like "was" and "because", and "maybe" in the place of plus and minuses.

Within the range of his right hand (easy range, imediate, what had been struck after smashing his keyboard in a fit of rage) were the following keys.

shift control, back slash, less than, greater than, i,k, nine, zero, colon, quotation, enter.

As for his left, he had pounded them in roughtly the following order.

shits, cap lock, a, s, d, e, r, f, e, x, z, alernate, control.

His seizure, per Mia, had happened shortly after he'd smashed down on the keyboard the second time. Which meant, in the best case scenario he had hit each key twice. Therefore offering a upper limit to the combinations he had to try. As for how many that left him, he didn't know, only knew that he should. So he spent the better part of the day ripping his room apart until he found a basic matmathics book. Or rather, he found the answers and the chicken scratch above them that was to be an equasion. Irritated, realizing he was going to have to paw through at least a hundred pages off the stuff he grumbled and groused, but eventually got to doing.

Thus he'd been found, with scribblings and scratchings from years ago fanned about him. His Algerbra one book securly set in his lap, and a semi fresh notebook at his side with notes and theroys.

Opening the door, seeing him hard at work, studying no less, Mother made a noise that lingered between delight and surprise and sounded rather stupid all in one go.

"Ohh..." He tried not to shudder as she set the pitch up and down on that one, protracted sylable. Breath for nonsense noise spent she carried on. "And whats my little scholor doing right now?"

At the baby talk he did shudder, resolve aside. But she never saw, face flushed and eyes red striped from a hard night "out with the girls". Somehow, homework just didn't feel like a fit this finding. Homework had bounds, numbers of pages and limits of problems allowed. This... situation... went past that all. There were no set numbers, no "Do odds only from section a to b". A shame that, he knew how to do homework, had been taught how since kindergarden. This was the no man's land where the previously known arithmatic had to be brought out with present probability and set to a real problem right. It just didn't feel like it was homework, so he temporized.

"I... well... I got curous about something, and I'm trying to figure out how it works."

Bad move, at the word something Mother's eyes lit up with that infernal curiousity that was so... smotheringly motherly. She drew near, a little sway to her step, and smushed papers and the like as she hussled closer. At least until she saw that the numbers were well in atendence. Upon seeing arithmatic more advanced than fractions, she balked. Actually, she flinched.

"Math?"

To that his smile widened, and he nodded, even though smiling and noding were things that were by rule mutually exclusive she didn't act on it. It seemed, in this special moment, all the normal rules were suspended for the day.

"Yeah, math."

To that reinforcment of the unfavorable she folded.

"Well don't stay up too late working on it."

"Of course not." He murmured, contrete and meek as always.

And like always, he was speaking to the quickly closing door.

"Good night Mother."

He was talking to a closed door.

Such went the way of things in the real world.

Recalling another world. The World... Hearing Mia's banter playing again in the inner audio system called memory... She... Her- Well it wasn't clingyness, not as cloy, but there had been a genunie hesitence to see him go- just her being with her he had begun to feel strange. With a sigh he realized that strangeness and revelation were inevitably inertwined. He wasn't sure if the former would drop away after the latter was revieled, but for now he knew something. Something about Mia and himself that went beyond language but screamed for definition.

Cradled in arms of violet hue, he only half heard, wholly felt. Her fur set his skin to tingling, not quite itching, but that burning just before it itch that wasn't all unplesent. He wanted to close his eyes, really he reclined, but he might miss something. So, for fear of missing something he kept his eyes open wide, looking about as they went. They approuched the Recorder together, Mia's whimsical banter pouring about him.

"Simple as thought." Mia confirmed. "We save and that "log out" button of yours ungreys. Everyone almost always saves up front so it's normally not a problem. I can't believe how long it took me to remember..."

Smiling indulgently, he'd simply enjoyed the walk that was beyond his control, limp head staring up at darkening skys and violet fur, and eyes made of coins. Seeing the end (a roof made of wood and tile and all those archaic things only romantics remember and told of in tales) in sight, he stiffened in the real world, gathered his resolve, and blurted.

"I... I... I want to give you my... my flashmail."

Coins, part brass, mostly gold, looked down at him, wide and glimmering.

"What!"

And for startling her, he laughed long and loud. She almost dropped him, so shocked at the sound and he let out a little yelp in surprise. When her eyes went back to normal size and her grip was more sure he tried again. His laughter shook his tone and raised his voice all on it's own.

"I want to give you my flashmail!"

He almost sang it, almost cheered it, insane as that might be.

"Alright already!" Smiling, almost as loud as he was, (almost as glad, if a tone could be glad) she held him out a bit, distancing herself from his noise and laughter even as she indulged in a bit of her own. "Alright, I'll take it, but let's save you first."

They carried on...

Chapter Text

Two Modes of play

Chapter 6

In which the strings are cut, part2

The Real…

She paced about him head tilted coin eyes glittering. Tail arched, the tip top coiled, she considered him. The glint smothered, went flat, as she padded into the shade cast by the back of some shop. It reappeared upon her stepping into the light again.

"Perfect."

The smile came, wide and fierce. A real smile, one of his secret ones, shared in who knew how long.

"Really?" Breath hitched, he couldn't believe it. "Truly?"

"Yep."

He couldn't hold it in, after hours of trying to -and failing- to stand, he'd gotten to his own two feet, no help requited. With a whoop he hopped, and by purest chance pulled off the jump. Landing, however, eluded him, and he crashed down only to be sprawled amongst his own limbs.

Edges of her fur were rimmed in gold from the sun, on up high, she grinned down at him, fangs flashing.

"Not giving up, are we?"

A flurry of typing on his end-

n, space, colon, space, tu (abbreviation for tilt up, no dots though abbreviated)

h, space, colon, space, R1, backslash, 2... (roll half way) minus, b...

-and he tilted his head up, met her eyes.

"Hardly."

"Good for you." She yawned, then straightened her head from it's cocked pose only to let it loll the other way. "Lets get at it."

"Trying for a new view?" Elk dared to tease, almost holding his breath at his witticisms conclusion. She could leave, any time she wanted. That hung over him an implatable anxiety.

"Keeps things fresh." The cat-player returned.

Wondering how to take that, elk decided it was well past time to get up. So we went through the motions. Brace palm on earth, push up, straighten back, set shoulders, in short, sit up. Tuck knees, first right than left, brace feet on earth, push of with hands, rock forward, -then half falling with gravity's tug and half his push bringing him closer to a face plant straighten legs, then back. Brace knees, relax shoulders, let hands go limp at sides...

And this he'd stand again. Simple really, as simple as that old child's song "foot bone connected to the.. ankle bone! Ankle bone connected to the -a breathless pause, taunt with excitement, as if the answer that was half cheered was some revelation- leg bone!" Thus it went, from bottom to top, this he rose focusing on the bottom till he was at the top, and staring at the clouds all unintentionally.

A chuckle teased his ear, that and whiskers. Back to pacing, she watched his rise, coin eyes... varied. Small grin omnipresent, tail a coiling mystery, she went through the motions of her observation all over again. Once he stood, she had drawn close, whiskers set to tickling, than she set a gloved hand on the top of his head, gently pressing down.

He went with the motion

-n space colon space underscore flx alt-

till he was facing in front rather than up.

"Going to jump?" Mia teased, half bent over she set a hand on his shoulder, releasing his head with a parting pat.

"No." Shaking his head, tickling the side of his face with her whiskers all on his own, he giggled. "I'm going to walk!"

"Well!" Pulling back, lips quirked into a smile -he'd never known, not quite daring to turn least he risk a tumble- fangs maybe flashing in that grin, Mia's expression was a mystery to him. Face a mystery, her enthused comment of "Get at it." was anything but.

Then, as he set his fingers to the keyboard, concentration stiffening every line of him in the real and the World, she added with a touch of something too much like malice.

"I can't wait to see this."

Rolling his eyes, in both real and the World, Elk sighed. "Thanks a lot."

And through it all he smiled.

As did she, though he'd never know it.

XXX

In steps and stages, he wandered staggering and scrapped. Falling only to rise, hardly a picture of grace, he trooped across familiar planks until they became monotonous. Unlike all those cliché's, where he'd walk into the waiting arms of another (like a child would to it's mother, when first learning to toddle) he walked alone. Sitting on crates, Mia watched his efforts, casting the small wave master in mirrors of both brass and gold. When sitting became a bit dull she stood, and kept pace at his die for a while. Tolerating his trips and accidental shoves with a calm you'd never see in the real world.

He'd said so, when he felt safe enough to speak and walk all at once. And to that she chuckled, and said nothing at all.

XXX

An hour, two, who knew? Time passed, and the sun soundlessly slid down and the seas turned first red, than grey, and at last black. He missed the display, too intent on setting one foot in front of the other. Startled, he turned -code tumbling from his aching fingers, steady but sure- looking first to Mia (the gold outlining her fur was long gone, a creeping black that stole the color from her edges and blurred violet to black was clearly setting in) then to the sea.

And for seeing the sea he sad. Sudden and shocked. Fluid and moving, it's edges of motion were glistening silver. The stars with their ponderous flickering births scarred the placidly flowing dark further. The edges of reflection distorted at the ebb and flow of Mac Anu's waters, till the very lights of heaven looked like lost fragments of static. Soundless, yes, but fickle, white, and fuzzed as well.

Tilting her head to the left, then to the right -trying each angle for size- Mia straightened her head for the first time in almost all day. Long ears twitching just so, she wordlessly say. Besides him and behind, her tail went tick tap against the familiar planks. The sound was without reason or rhyme.

Finally, in a whisper, the moment broke.

"No one ever notices there quiet little things."

It seemed that she almost grieved.

For a long time he listened, beyond and behind came the rustle of clothe, the clop of varied, various shoes. More monotonous than planks -and familiar, so much so he...- came the babble of voices. Bubbling, bright, loud. Epics were bawled, greetings hollered, and statistics screamed. And, under that yapping, quiet but more sure, came the unfamiliar "whump" and "crackle" as fires started and light burned. And that which burned in the clasped steel hollows, that which burned to harbor those alien flames set off a inky smoke that clawed up and blured the light of heaven.

And steel the edges from the stars.

"I know." Elk sighed, "I..."

Whatever he'd meant to say remained unsaid. One breathe, two, who knew? Time passed as it usually did, and one moment died to become another.

"I probably should... log out... It's getting late."

Tick tap went the tail as it rapped against the wood. Whorls and grain were lost in the gathering gloom. Water sloshed and butted against the pillars, and he closed his eyes. No code needed for that, thank god. A sharp tip of claw poking at his skull set his eyes wide. He turned, fragments half coherent spilled from still seeming fingers, and his eyes watered just a little.

"It's late. You should probably go home now."

"Mm.."

Closing his eyes, Elk didn't bother to sigh or rub his smarting scalp. His only word was a hum really, without meaning to it, and he stayed a while despite logic and her reminding him of logic that now would be a good time to log out. Mia didn't say a thing to protest, or did anything else come to think of it. For the longest time they stayed together, watching nothing else save the little things.

Thus they stayed for quite a while.

XXX

"And I was like OMG and-"

"That monster was totally TPK, God Mod-"

"And so she said-"

Bobbing along on the tug of the line, pastel lunch tray clenched in slightly sore hands he slipped once place forward at a time towards the sustenance promised at the end. The smells, a sickening churned morass that had nothing of coherence to it, filled his nostrils. He couldn't even tell what was on the menu, even though he was almost in viewing of the stalls. Whatever is was, it wasn't tantalizing, as the aroma was starting to make him feel sick.

As for the babble, he'd heard it all before and endured without really hearing a word of it.

Finally, deciding to do without, he slipped out of the line, paced alongside it and-

More babble, more relevant, some hostile, words like "cutter" spattered against his back-

-upon reaching the head that was the end caught the eye of the nearest adult.

"Here." Offering the empty tray with a well practiced smile, one both stiff and brittle but easily bought, he added. "I guess I'm not hungry."

She took it, a older lady with a harried expression that did much to blur the details. Never really seeing him, or it, or anything as she was too busy insuring order amongst those who wanted to eat. She took the tray without even seeing it, and he slipped away, never spoken too.

And, offering done, he left, never missed. Even when he slipped out of the cafeteria and went wandering around the schools halls for a while.

Chapter Text

Two Modes of play

Chapter 7

Bitter by half

He barely shook the fall from his head and got a glimpse of Mac Anu before familiar, violet paws settled onto his shoulders. Smiling instead or starting, he said hi, and she said hi back. Literally, she said "hi back", not "back at you" trying to be tough and cool and failing at both spectacularly. To that he grinned and the paw hands lingered, pushing him forward all the while.

He protested, struggling a little.

Heels digging in, stiff as a board, still he loosened up and was swept up by her enthusiasm, more than happy to be swept away. She didn't quite carry him off, he didn't quite run to keep up. But it was a very near thing. For a while Elk chased Mia, weaving around people and stalls, following the perked up ears for a while. One turn later and a few steps down and all the people were gone. Only familiar boards and the water spread beyond them.

That and Mia. Gold eyes glittering, she smiled. Suddenly shy, he swallowed.

"Hi."

And to that she laughed. "You already said that."

"I did."

And though it was a statement, she affirmed, "You did."

That hung between them, so done it didn't feel awkward in the least.

"How about, hiya?"

Tweaking her whiskers with a clawed finger, Mia considered his suggestion. "It's sort of new." She conceded.

"Oy?"

"Meh." She held one hand flay and horizontal, rocking it back and forth as if weighing it on her fingers.

"Lo?"

"Low what?"

"Never mind."

Slipping one hand behind the other, setting the tangled mess behind his back, he rocked back on his heels than forward. Back and forth, she watched this small show silently. Then-

"You've been practicing?"

"Nope, just thought I'd try it and see if it worked."

"It looks good on you."

Th… Thanks." Almost blushing till he burst, Elk wondered if Mia thought that looked good too. But she didn't say. Or at least she didn't comment, and he wondered if she could see. Not wanting to ask, Elk enjoyed the quiet for a little while, stilled his rocking and turned to watch the sea. Sun up, waves gold crested, not crested, all in turn, he smiled at that familiar sight.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

He started at that, not quite expecting her to say anything, truth be told. Then, inspired by before, he offered the first thing that came to mind.

"How about a game of tag?"

"Tag?"

"Someone starts out as it, than the others run from him or her. The it person tags a non it person, making that person it, and then they turn around and chase after non it people until they catch someone…"

"It does sound fun.," Mia grinned, but the smile dimmed and gold became brass. "But with two people?"

"Mm…" Elk digested the protest. "Not as fun," The wave master agreed.

That's too bad." The cat-player conceded. Never mind that tag was a real little kid's game. There weren't any jokes about babies made, only a thoughtful. "Maybe in a big area though…"

"Mac Anu's not that big." Elk protested.

"We'll find some place big, the biggest." Mia enthused. "Maybe even a dungeon."

Recalling dungeons had monsters, TPK monsters (Whatever that was). Monsters sounded scary, dungeons were creepy, tag just didn't fit in either so far as he was concerned.

"Maybe later." The wave master suggested.

"Soo…" Ears perks and tail swishing the feline looked at him as she had before. "What do you want to do today?"

"Hmmm…" Thinking of what he'd done before Elk offered a tentative. "Shoe watch?"

To that Mia yawned, raising a hand to hide her tangs. Her "you said that before" hung between them, not really needing to be said. Thinking fast, Elk scrunched up his face also, thinking hard to good measure.

"How about hat watching?"

"Looking for a hat?"

That wasn't quite what he aid, but it seemed like a good idea.

"A type of hat." He amended.

"What's wrong with the one you're wearing?"

Scratching at his head, fingers tingling where they crumpled and ruffled the cap popped over his head, Elk shrugged. Nothing was wrong with it, not really. A sharp tug on the back of his head later and blue fell into his eyes, sheets of spiky looking sky hue. Sauntering from behind him, tail tip coiling in a follow me gesture, Mia took the lead. Claw tick tapping against stones, she ascended. On the landing before that final ascent that would have taken her up and away rather than just up (where she was now) Mia paused. Setting her new blue cap on her head, it's fake big red stones flashing, at a rakish angle. Then, she went up the final bend and was gone.

"Hey!" Slicking his blue hair back -a futile gesture as it fell back over his eyes I na second- Elk hollered. "Get back here!"

Already gone, Mia hardly bothered to return.

"Mia!" Still hollering -and chasing to boot- Elk clambered up the stairs after her. "Give me back my hat!"

The chase was on.

XXX

He'd gotten his hat after hollering and chasing went on long enough to satisfy Mia. With a pat on his head to sooth hurt feelings -he scarcely felt her claws- she'd set his cp on place with a careless plop. He'd spent a while stuffing his hair back under, where it belonged, smoothing and shifting his accessory till it felt right. Mia's gleaming smile kept him checking his head for spiky non hatted hair patches for the rest of the day. Play done for the time being they settled back where they began, Making seats on a set of crates by a shop of sorts. There, they watched hats. Counting tassels and sharing look sees, and sniggers for a long while.

The call of "telephone" cut into his fun. Saying bye to Mia he'd logged out and raced down the hall. Only five rings in, breaking the answering machine by one, all in all it was a personal best.

"Hello?"

"Son! I Thought you'd never pick up!"

"Oh," Some of his joy from before had stained his tone with an unusual vibe of energy. It seeped out in torrents now, there than gone before the first syllable was up. "Hi, dad."

"How are you?" Enthusiastic and gruff, hear, the boy sometimes called Elk checked an exasperated sigh at the…. Sameness to his Father's tone. The question went beyond sameness, and into bland.

"Good."

"That's good…" Father paused, expecting, almost anticipating the next step in their scripted talks.

"So." Forcing an enthusiasm he didn't feel, the boy called Elk, the boy who's real name came rushing back and was slowly but surely being crushed out by the sameness of it all, drummed up a ghost of enthusiasm. To take the real thing's place. "How was your day?"

"Good, good…"

And thus they started, speaking of inanities. Like places father had gone to and things father had done. All for work, of course., Always for work. Patiently waiting until patience was spent the boy named Kaoru Ichinose twined the cord between sweating fingers until it tangled and pinched.

Mother drifted then in, pulled away from her efforts at cooking. She cast him a curious look, and to that he smile his best practiced smile and twitching his fingers free pointed at the phone. Then he flapped his hands, and to that Mother almost laughed, but at the last moment decided laughter just wasn't her thing and smiled wryly instead.

Nodding her understanding Mother drifted out and the boy, who was sometimes called Elk spared a glance at the clock. By the rate and details, and father's droning, dry cadence he'd have to endure this until either forever ended or Mother relieved him by saying that dinner was done.

Considering that by smell alone he couldn't tell what dinner was he expected it to be a long, one sided conversation.

So gritting his teeth, and sparing a second glance at the clock -the second hand had moved only five ticks since his last despairing look- the boy who was sometimes called Elk, gritted his teeth.

" Kaoru?"

"I'm here." He assured, brightly, lightly, smile practiced so often if felt bitter and sore. "I haven't gone anywhere, I promise."

And at his assurance the boring monologue rolled over him. It only let up in those appropriate, prearranged silence where he was supposed to "ohh", and "ah", and make other noises be they of sympathy or empathy or whatever the moment called for.

And insanely, inanely, a question -never ask a question, or you'll be here till after midnight, so promised bitter experience- tingled against the tip of his hats. As tales of lines and tasks wound on and on, for father's job seemed consumed by those two factors and had little room for other details save lines and tasks.

It hung, unsaid, unspoken…

Tell me, did you see any odd hats today? I… I saw so many. Some with tassels and some with bells and… And the sea, I saw the sea and…

And I have a friend…

But father never stopped, only paused and waited for the quiet to be filled with expected things. And so it hung unsaid, unspoken, and too bitter by half.

Chapter Text

Two Modes of Play

Chapter 8

Blurring

Feathered tip licking his nose, he sniffed once, twice, then nodded. Rolling the small grassy stem, letting the butter yellow tuft catch the sun, he passed the aromatic grass back. Taking a sniff, coin eyes glittering, Mia closed her eyes, taking a deep draw of the plants scent/

"Rhubarb." She affirmed.

"Licorice."

He countered.

It hung between them, not quite an argument really., After all, rhubarb tasted like licorice, and though he wasn't about to log out and run to the nearest grocery story to take a moment to smell the rhubarbs he wasn't going to argue either. Licorice, rhubarb… potato, potato, in the end it all meant the same.

Sitting side by side, the Elf Haven stall to their backs they passed first her aromatic grass back and forth, than his. Plucking a pale blue bit of grass 0the stem was a blue green, it's tuft a sky blue- he took a tentative sniff. Eyes widening, he took another draw, than laughed. Stretching an arm, Mia crooked her claws in a mute "gimme". So, he gave, with a smile, and she received. Coin eyes glittering as she studied him then the bit of grass, she at last dared a smell. Eyes scrunched closed the feline went still, and the scrunch faded bit by bit. Tickling her nose, daring a sneeze no less., Mia toyed with the tuft.

"Cake. Chocolate cake with vanilla frosting?" Mia asked.

"Mmm hmm.." Elk grinned. "Kinda makes you hungry, doesn't' it?"

"Mmm… Maybe." The cat-player conceded.

Passing the blue tufted grass back to the wave master, Mia shifted a bit. Comfortable once more, she picked up her yellow tuft of aromatic grass from where she'd set it to lay at her side. Brass eyes a mystery, fangs flashing, the feline smirked. "I like mine better."

"You would." The wave master bantered, all those words that held him back were fading away in that precious moment.

"I would." The feline affirmed, utterly unrepentant.

Smile and bantered fled when from a place where cobles weren't, and feline people could never be, a bell shrilled. A bell with no clapper, electronic, it screamed. Heaving a sigh, knowing what that sound meant, that lunch was over and it was back to the ho-hum where words like "don't" and "but" and "the usual" had more powers than spells, and more weight than wonders, Elk sighed. He didn't want to say it, admit it, but Mia knew, recognizing all the signs.

"Have to go?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Unhuh… Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You're busy out there." Waving a clawed hand vaguely Mia poked him with the tuft of grass when he hopped to his feet. "Later?"

"In a few hours. If my homework's bad I'll send you a flashmail."

"Later then."

Leaning back, long ears softly scraping against the wooden stall of the Haven -the elf NPC never noticing, hardly programmed to care- Mia closed her eyes, aromatic grass tip tapping the edge of her nose.

"Mia?"

"Hmmm…" Cracking open an eye, lounging on cobles, the scent of licorice swirling about her head like an unformed though. "What is it Elk?"

"Do you… you know…" All those other things from beyond gummed up his throat, stealing his coherence. "I was wondering…"

The other eye opened, a reluctant gold, both orbs looked up at him, she waited patiently.

"Do you ever get lonely?"

"Nope." Closing her eyes, Mia smirked at nothing at all. "Not me."

"Oh." Drumming up a grin, just in case she opened her eyes, the wave master shrugged. Then, though he wasn't asked, offered a "Just curious". All in all it sounded utterly forced, familiarly brittle. He blinked, felt burning, and knew he had to go. Soon.

"Mm hmm…" Particularly drowning in the scent of licorice Mia never opened her eyes, though her ears did twitch a little at that unfamiliar tone to his voice.

"So… I'll see you later than!" Elk enthused, though chipper the sound was shrill, fraudulent, and the twitch became a full formed swerve. One violet ear trained on him, though her eyes remained closed, and the scrunch was coming back a bit around her eyes.

"You said that already." Mia bantered, and though familiar in both teasing and teasing's forum, there was an edge of something new to her tone that stole the monotony and eased the burning behind his eyes. For that, he smiled, a real smile, the brittle fleeing. Then, he was fleeing, taking his heels across fast familiar cobles knowing only that he needed to save before getting to the gate so he could log out.

Still, though he was running, he couldn't resist to holler back.

"No, you did."

To that she laughed, her throaty chuckle following him, lingering in his head long after he'd logged out.

Chapter Text

Two Modes of Play

Chapter nine

Hidden Forbidden Holy Ground: Part one

The first… Dungeon?

"And this is a chaos gate!"

Tour complete, tail a swish, Mia turned to her audience of one, paw hands on his, tip tail curled. Taking her lost soul from item shop, to spell shock, to weapon shop, to elf haven, than recorder, she'd trooped him all about Mac Anu. Their last stop, of course, was the chaos gate, and she'd acted every inch the tour guild, amusing her and solving that infernal query of "and what are we doing today" that always came up around her. Bemused, clinging so close he was all but lost in her shadow, his pale garments made gloomy by the skein of her shad, he loyally trailed, asking quiet questions and watching what other players considered "mundane" with wide, wondering eyes.

That amused her to no end too, made her smile, a smile as wide as one of his true ones.

"Well?" Mia pressed, fangs flashing she challenged his silence with a grin.

"More informative than the manual, buy a long shot." He enthused.

And to that, she bowed, ears twitching just so.

"Ready?" She teased, standing straight and tall now, "for your first dungeon run?"

"I..." Swallowing, he tried a smile. "I suppose it's overdue, isn't it?'

A paw pressing against the small of his back propelled him forward. Almost nose to the spinning rim of the gate, she let up and he skidded to a stop. Only a slew of writing he was half cognizant of stopped him from toppling into said gate. And heaven only knew what would happen if you fell in, the manual didn't cover that.

"I have my sword." Mia assured with a lazy confidence that bespoke lots of dungeonering experience. "We'll find one there."

"A.." With a snarkle (a sound reminiscent between a crackle and a snicker) the gate rotated, yellow light zapping his nose as it passed. "A.. sword?" he squeaked, rubbing his suddenly smarting nose.

"No." Still amused, surely smiling, she wheeled him back a step or two to spare him more snarkles. "A staff, for you."

Th.. Thanks you?"

The gate spun, this time with a tame hum, his nose still smarted though.

"What for?" A glance over his shoulder showed Mia's eyes to be wide and gold, her expression genuinely confused. "It's not like you have a staff now."

"Well... no... I mean..." Looking at Mia's gold coin eyes made him lose his train of thought, so he looked to the still humming "gate". "What I meant to say-" It was those words, all those horrible words like "but" and "um" they were back. He swallowed, forced them down. "Is... that..."

They clambered up his throat and nestled in his brain, settling into the folds of his grey matter like unwanted guests and jamming up each thought.

Forget coherence, he wasn't thinking.

"Let's go." He gave up, just took the easy route.

Coin eyes a mystery, Mia offered a hand. With a shy half bow he took what was offered. Hand in hand, her claws lightly poking through his sleeve to scratch at his wrist, his grip too tight, they faced the gate together. Their party of two already made, was crafted the second they'd laid eyes on each other.

"Allow me." Mia offered, the lines her claws drew stung as she considered something. "You say the words out loud, under your breath." Mia instructed.

Like a spell the wavemaster thought like magic from ages ago.

Elk lifted his gaze, sky blue locks falling over his eyes. Mia wasn't considering him, her dark eyes were riveted in the gate, it's cyclic motions were cast in bronze by the tools of her scrutiny. They sparkled though, those changing eyes, and her tail was suspiciously still.

"Then," One eye flicked on him, caught his knowing smile she smiled too. "You say "No-"

"Place like home." The wavemaster finished with her.

"There's no place like home." The repeat came in perfect sync.

Both laughed, he harder than she. And it was only when his laughter was loudest, it's grip on him firmest, that she acted. Snapping a free hand out, she brushed past golden bands (the fur on her wrist puffed as the gate snarkled her) to touch the blue. Still laughing, unable to stop, he missed the words -though not the means- she murmured about her chuckles. Then, golden light snapped out, binding about both in bright threads. Lines became coils, coils to circles with unfamiliar symbols cast in colors best ascribed to school busses. Then even the edges of those symbols were lost, blurring on the onslaught of growing illumination.

He closed his eyes, had to close them, and when they opened hi found himself falling between that span between zero and one, a familiar fall with an unfamiliar touch at his side.

XXX

His red stripped eyes hardly elicited comment at school. Another member of the game and cyber addicted populace. It was a marking badge of sorts. He was one of them, part of a club without a meet house, a fellowship bereft of meetings yet filled with members. They hobby that was to socialize him, that gave him endless things to talk about was utterly solitary.

Perused in the familiar confines of four walls, with a depth to talk of on a subject forbidden, he mulled over the contradiction of it all even as he slipped out of his room to help mother unload her "necessities" for today.

Hands not quite touching, they reached for bags and sorted things. As for what, he didn't really care, never truly noted.

"How was your day?"

Ah the familiar silence filler of small talk. He tried not to laugh at the expected, but it was a trial. Mia just made... laughing a little too easy sometimes.

"Fine."

Bereft of snark or sarcasm, almost stripped of all inflection, he answered. Red streaked eyes focusing on down, hands bust, Just like every other time.

"And school?"

"I'm passing my classes." He conceded.

"Meet any girls?"

Yes, the truth teased his throat and he swallowed it down so fast its taste alluded him. He couldn't mention Mia. Not without mentioning other… taboo topics. So he shook his head, ears and face starting to match the edges of his eyes though he didn't know it quite at first.

Mother, however notices and tittered. The sound was shrill and reminiscent of bells without clappers.

"Mm hmm... sure." She drawled.

"How..." Feeling his blush, unable to stop it, he tried to change topic. "How was the bingo game at the church?"

"Fine." one of his fines that, stripped of all inflection. "What's her name?"

"Mother!" He half whine, half protest, wholly indignant, he cried out.

"Alright fine." Sounding huffy she waved a hand striving to sooth the fires in her normally placid boy's voice. "I won't ask. But I'd bet good money that your father will, and he won't take no as an answer."

Knowing father as he did... The boy who was sometimes called Elk tried not to shudder, he wasn't wholly successful, but he made the effort. Not that mother noted, effort or shudder, otherwise

Chapter Text

Two Modes of Play

The First Dungeon part 2

At Forbidden Hidden Holy Ground

Echoes

Her claws clicking on cobbles, she raced before him, tail a-swish, eyes intent. Hesitant at first, than at last sure she was sure, he stumbled after her. They fled nothing, at her beckon and command. They ran from imaginary ghouls and ghosts, they sprinted to distant sanctuary.

An island, at the end of a bridge was their goal. Yet, how strange a bridge, one without a beginning, or end depending on if one was coming or going. Furthermore it was deprived its lake, denied a distant shore. The edge, the start, had led to nowhere, been abutted against oblivions' drop. As for the details of that fall, they'd been obscured by wind coiled mists, then duly noted they'd been abandoned as both players fled an invisible hoard at their back. Together they threw open the doors, though massive and tick they swung easily at the barest push.

With the force of their flight behind them they struck stone walls with a sound like thunder. Unable to hear anything save the roar of their coming, the pulse deep boom of stone against wood, he turned. A quick wave and scramble tipped Mia off to his intent, and they closed the door against the unseen mob at their back. As loud as their coming, the sudden sealed span shook under their hands till they tingled. Battering rams, and fisted paws, Elk had warned. That must be what the racket was, not them. A curt "Un hunh", and nod had been Mia's consent. So, sword out, unspeakably brave, she braced for what was coming, ears pricks, tail still. Echo's chased themselves across the vaulted ceiling, dimming, than dull, till only the memory remained. That and the tingle, under the skin of their fingers.

Neck fur ruffled, golden eyes gleaming, Mia brayed challenges at the door.

"Cowards, come in and fight!"

Indiscriminate the arches caught the bravo, distorted and warped it till it sounded fearsome indeed. Hiding behind the pews (just to be safe, spot Mia had said) Elk crept out when those echoes had died down. Considering the sound of "them" and the horrible distorting from on high, Elk was more than happy when nothing happened.

"Are… are they gone?"

A nod, and fang flashed smile. To that affirmation Elk smiled hesitantly.

"Th… that was close." He whispered, not quite daring a regular voice, half afraid of what echoes could be born with casual talking in a place like this.

"Bah, we could have taken them." Sheathing her blade, Mia whispered too, taking cue from her companion. Then, eyes gold in the stain glass window filtered light, she wondered aloud. "Why are we whispering?" Still holding to a low soft tone, even as she questioned.

"Well…" Voice still soft, the Wave Master pushed off polished floors. Brushing the knees of his pants he stood, looking about through incense tinged air. "It is a church."

Above and about, dangling from thick brass chains, off gold burners set sweet smoke to the air. They were still as stone, as still as the pews about them Motionless was the tone of the day. Save about the edges. Where light glistened and shifted, sending different hues to soundlessly glide over everything as they burst forth from the stain glass windows on high. Taking a deep breathe, he tasted soft sweetness, like and unlike vanilla. Idly he wondered if the burners were going through a new scent of Aromatic Grass. If so, he really wanted that flavor. Fallowing his example, Mia drew than sighed. Whiskers a twitch, she considered him, then beyond him.

"Who's that?"

Forgoing whispers and dignity she pointed, to that he turned. Cast in stone, wrapped in chains, eight, four per side, was a girl. Elk considered her, though bereft of color all save grey, there was something about her eyes that got you. A vibrancy that transcended color, a breath of… something. Real perhaps, feeling, than the light shifted and she wasn't colorless at all. Just mainly gray, her edges clad in fallen rainbows she looked at them, through them, beyond them both.

Shifting his cap, the Wave Master shrugged.

"I don't know." He tried a grin and seeing it reflected in the gold of Mia's eyes decided he liked how it looked. "But let's find out."

Strolling down the aisle, she stopped by the pews where he once hid, now stood. Offering a hand she waited, eyes brass this time, expression bemused. She offered, and he accepted the hand. This time his grip wasn't so tight, her claws weren't so… pokey.

Together the strolled down the aisle, hand in hand, approaching a bound girl others would have felt compelled to save. Looking at her, in complete sympathy, Elk simply cast the girl a grin as he drew near. He knew what she was feeling all too well.

Tugging his hand, drawing him to a quicker pace, Mia flashed him a smile. "Come on already slowpoke, let's go."

They half ran the rest of the way, only to stop at the boundary's edge.

XXX

There was a careful balance of tone and word choice, that he was fond. Amongst the syllables and inflection, stacked in shifting banks called "subject" and "School appropriate" he set his efforts that were part play part… professional, he took it that seriously. Letting judgment's tides and his present teacher's whim, wear at his efforts. It hadn't mattered, school was school, and passing was enough. So he set his tales, essays, and the like up to the block. Indifferent to everything save that it stood.

Well, that and it's standing satisfied his verbal equilibrium. It was a subtle thing, vital yet hard to define, and if infuriated him when he found it lacking. So he encouraged it, lingering over this phrase, that sentence, he'd turned in another paper same as any other and had been more than a bit bemused to get it back this day with an A on the front cover.

It wasn't that A's were hard to find, minimal effort provided him with that. It was the color, so vibrant it seemed profane. So he stuffed it in his back pack with all its kin (most similarly marked, a few lower but not by much) and let it be lost in the depth of his backpack. Passing the threshold he rolled his shoulders, slipping one arm free of the strap he let gravity do the rest with a lazy shrug. Kicking off his shoes he padded deeper into the house, quiet as could be, a sense of… something… causing to fear any sounds least he invoke a flurry of echoes.

A few feet in the kitchen banished that feeling, and at the sight before him old irritation took caution's place. Neatly folded, propped up against the salt shaker so he couldn't miss it, was a note. At a glance he knew its contents, even before he took it from its place and flipped it open. Reading the predictable was as crushing as reading a tragedy. He sighed at the forgone conclusion, braced against a mire of disappointment.

But there was something else there now, something that peaked at him from beyond the mask of the familiar. It was something lighter, more vibrant, a snippet stolen from… other places. And realizing what it was, it was like pulling off the mask of some horror monster and finding a friend underneath. He laughed then, a shockingly loud sound that was as different from his practiced chuckles and smiles as night was from day.

Letting the paper tumble from his fingers, he sneaked a quick peak at the clock. He'd have a few hours, perhaps enough for a dungeon, another one, anyway. Racing off to his room he left the discourse behind, forgetting it before it fully fell.

And so it fell open, forgotten, that letter, its crease holding it open.

Kaoru,

I went out for another night with the girl's. I'll be gone all night. See you in the morning before school start's tomorrow.

Mom